


Phantom Pain

by farbsturz



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Brotherly Bonding, Hurt/Comfort, this takes place after tim returned home from oz's prison, tim's pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-14
Updated: 2017-10-14
Packaged: 2019-01-17 02:03:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12355161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/farbsturz/pseuds/farbsturz
Summary: “I’m alive. I’m Tim Drake. I’m alive and well. I’m in the manor. I’m alive. I’m okay.”Blue were forced shut and the young man took a shaking breath, struggling to keep his heartbeat under control. The short sentences were mumbled over and over again though his mind couldn’t grasp anything but the pain in his chest and limbs. It was so unbelievably stupid, Tim was aware that he didn’t stand on that rooftop anymore. But his body felt the missiles hitting him anyway, over and over and over again.





	Phantom Pain

Sweat. Short breath. Wide unfocused eyes. A suppressed scream. Messy hair. Blanket on the ground. 

 

And an aching pain in his chest threatening to knock him unconscious. 

 

It hurt. Stupid, he knew. But it still hurt so much. Hands clutched at his shirt as if they could tear something away that wasn’t there. He hated it. 

 

“I’m alive. I’m Tim Drake. I’m alive and well. I’m in the manor. I’m alive. I’m okay.”

 

Blue were forced shut and the young man took a shaking breath, struggling to keep his heartbeat under control. The short sentences were mumbled over and over again though his mind couldn’t grasp anything but the pain in his chest and limbs. It was so unbelievably stupid, Tim was aware that he didn’t stand on that rooftop anymore. But his body felt the missiles hitting him anyway, over and over and over again. 

 

How many nights had he woken up to these too vivid memories? Had clutched his chest and screamed quietly for Stephanie or Bruce or  _ anyone  _ to end this? Had begged to not be left alone anymore? Tim had lost many beloved people in his life. A pain that accompanied him with every breath and step he took. But this? This was more physical. 

 

This was a phantom pain. 

 

Idiotic if you were to think about it. Tim hadn’t lost a limb. But in a sense he had lost his body in dozens of explosions. He might not have stayed dead  but the missiles had hit him anyway. And the pain… the pain had been so much in such a small amount of time. 

 

Short and hitched breaths left him as a shaking hand reached up to run through sweaty hair. 

 

“I’m alive. I’m okay. I’m-”

 

“An idiot.”

 

Well, so much for calming down. Tired eyes snapped open and looked for the sudden voice intruding his own, body growing tense at the presence he hadn’t noticed. His brain absentmindedly scolded him for letting his guard down and it took Tim a second too long to process who was leaning in the doorframe to his room. 

 

Damian was wearing black sweatpants and a hoodie with the nightwing symbol. It had been a gift given jokingly by Dick but the little Robin had started to wear it whenever their oldest brother hadn’t been around. While the boy had tried to explain on several occasions that the material was merely pleasant to wear, Tim and the others had known that it was worn for a more sentimental reason. No one had commented on it, though. 

 

His little brother’s hair was still neatly in place and judging by the dog at Damian’s side, the boy had not yet been asleep. Not out of the ordinary for people with their kind of hobby but the more interesting question was why the other was even in this part of the manor. Tim’s and Damian’s room were pretty far apart and it was rare for the demon brat to be in this side. 

 

The young man straightened his back and tried to glare as best as he could in his weakened state. His current relationship with the Robin was awkward at best. It had been a few weeks now since Tim had been back but never had he been with Damian in a room alone. Hell, they hadn’t even exchanged more than a few sentences since his return and it was unnerving to see the other in his room now. Tim didn’t know where the two of them stood and while they had never been each other’s favourite, their fighting had become less after Damian had been resurrected. 

 

Green eyes were staring at him in silence and Tim didn’t know how to react. What did the little Robin want from him? There wasn’t anything he had done wrong as far as the young man could judge and Tim found his heart calming down a little even if only to maintain the illusion of being fine to outsiders. 

 

“You are an idiot, Drake.”

 

He blinked.

 

“Pardon?”

 

And there it was again, the clicking tongue which had become a trademark of his brother. 

 

“I said, you are an idiot, Drake.”

 

The words didn’t hold any menace or bite. If anything they almost sounded soft with the way Damian kept his voice low. Why he was talking quietly, Tim didn’t know. But it left him only more confused. 

 

The boy, however, seemed to run out of patience and Tim watched as Damian pushed himself off the frame, fully entering the room with Titus close by. It was both fascinating and astonishing how loyal the dog was to its owner but then again the little brat always had a way with animals. The zoo in the batcave was proof enough. No matter how much trouble Damian had with people, Tim could see a glimpse of the good heart Dick had mentioned dozens of times whenever the boy took care of his pets. 

 

He slowly pulled his legs closer as Damian came to a stop in front of him, whether it was to hide his uneven breath or to protect his vulnerability the young man didn’t know. Their eyes met and for a few seconds the still dark room was quiet except for their breathing. It almost seemed as if his little brother searched for something and Tim tried to mask whatever emotion might be evident on his expression. 

 

“Do you seriously believe we wouldn’t notice? That  _ I  _ wouldn’t notice? Please, Drake, I know you underestimate me but this is truly insulting.”

 

Damian crossed his arms and in the lack of light Tim could almost fool himself into seeing a pout on the other’s lips. He was confused and tired and the spoken words didn’t make any sense at all. 

 

“Damian, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Whatever it is you think I did, I can assure you that I’m not-”

 

“-okay.”

 

Tim stopped and looked for any clue what this might be about. It was annoying to be interrupted over and over again but right now he couldn’t find the nerve to fight about it. He would just let Damian play his little game and hope he would leave soon enough. 

 

“I am not sure whether this is supposed to be a selfless or selfish action but I can recognize stupidity when it stands in front of me, Drake.”

 

He sighed. 

 

“Can we talk about this another time, Damian? I’m really not in the mood right now.”

 

But green eyes didn’t waver. Rather, they were averted by now. 

 

“You’re hurting, Timothy. It’s so obvious it’s painful. Did you think Father wouldn’t notice? Even Pennyworth knows something is up… Coming back from the dead is messed up. It’s not to be brushed off as easily as you may try to pretend.” 

 

Damian’s voice was painfully quiet by now and Titus whined softly at the shift in its owner’s emotion. But the boy simply petted the loyal dog and forced himself to continue. 

 

“I had nightmares the first few weeks after I was brought back. I-I… still have them at times. And when I’m sparring or out there fighting…” 

 

His brother took a deep shaking breath and Tim noticed the trembling hands being clenched into fists. 

 

“... When I get hit in the chest sometimes...”

 

And as Damian lifted his hand to place it at the spot he meant, the young man understood. It was where the heretic had stabbed him. Where the blade had torn through him. Tim had seen the wound first hand, had wondered how anyone could have let a child into such a cruel world, fighting wars meant for adults. 

 

His little brother searched for eye contact again and even though green spoke of the hidden pain he had endured, they also reflected the stubbornness and determination Damian was known for. 

 

“Grayson has told me it’s not necessarily a weakness to sleep badly. Or to relive moments of the past. He told me that if someone is hurting, they should not keep it to themselves but search for a valve. Allowing these events to eat you up only corrupts your mind and heart… And if you are not fully focused, a mistake can lead to repetition.” 

 

A deep breath was taken and Damian lowered his head as he began to play around with the hem of his nightwing hood. 

 

“What I am trying to say is… I know what it’s like. To feel death pulling at your leg to get you back. To wonder why you’re here while others are gone. It’s unfair. And this pain in my chest, these dreams I have, they only remind me of the second chance I got. Whether I deserved it, though, I’m not that sure...”

 

Tim felt something swell up within him and the lump which had previously prevented him from breathing deeply was gone. Without thinking he reached for his brother’s wrist and gently pulled him onto the bed with him. It was a surprise to see Damian comply but right now he could only guess that they both needed someone to hold onto. Sometimes Tim forgot that the boy was only 13 years old and it hurt, knowing that their little Robin had to deal with such a burden and pain by himself. It was a sick irony how the two brothers finally found a reason in death to bond in life. 

 

Lightly wrapping his arms around Damian’s so small and fragile body, Tim ran a hand through the little boy’s hair as the other returned the embrace. A tired but genuine smile lingered on his lips as Titus licked his hand and the young man tightened his hold. While he was sure that this wouldn’t become a habit for them, it was nice to finally hold his brother like this. No matter how often they might fight, how often they insulted and threatened each other - They were family. And family would always stick together. 

 

It was now  that Tim realized that he would always go back to Apokolips to save Damian. He would die for his family. 

 

But right now he had to live for them. 

 

After a few minutes Damian finally pushed away and Tim allowed him to put distance between them once again. The little bat pulled the hood over his face and turned to leave, Titus close by. However, he stopped in the doorframe and clicked his tongue in annoyance. 

 

“Come on, Drake, hurry up.”

 

Blue blinked in surprise and it took him a second to understand that Damian actually wanted him to follow. Hesitantly, Tim pushed himself off the bed and put his slippers on, silently following his brother through the manor to his room. The times the young man had been in here was only a handful and he took his time to take in the furniture. 

 

A chimney rested at the side with Jason’s helmet and Dick’s escrima stick on top, a violin case in another corner, bookshelves, and some swords decorating a wall. What quickly caught Tim’s attention was the easel and blank canvas. Damian walked towards it, lifted a colour palette and paintbrush to examine. 

 

“I either create music or art whenever I relive the pain from my death. It helps me focus on something else. Watching the paint run down the canvas or listening to the long tones can help easing one’s mind.” 

 

Damian shrugged and held the items out for Tim to take, expression unreadable. 

 

“In Todd’s words: Worth a try.”

 

Tim lightly shook his head in amusement at the quote but found himself moving towards his brother. He took the offered tools and stared down at the different colours. The clicking of a tongue interrupted his musing about a possible image to draw.

 

“It’s not rocket science, Drake. Just move your hand for once instead of your brain.”

 

Glaring slightly, Tim merely huffed and dunked the brush in a calming green colour. 

 

“And here I thought we were getting along, Damian.” 

 

It was lighthearted bickering and Damian crossed his arms in silent approval as Tim drew the first line. His eyes followed the paint turning the canvas into his own personal project and with each stroke the pain in his chest made place for the curiosity of the future outcome of his more or less artistic nature. 

 

Tim didn’t know how long he was drawing, seeing as how at some point Damian had fallen asleep on his bed with Titus laying next to him, but he was grateful for the given valve. While he could still feel the fading presence of his dream, Tim was at least sure that he was alive and home. 

 

The okay part would come eventually. 

**Author's Note:**

> I apologize if this seemed ooc, I'm not that familiar with Tim's personality yet. Critique would be more than appreciated.
> 
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> My tumblr: [farbsturz](http://farbsturz.tumblr.com/)


End file.
